


Sweet Dreams

by wubz-bubx-redux (Inorganic_soot)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Pre-Weirdmageddon, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 09:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inorganic_soot/pseuds/wubz-bubx-redux
Summary: Ford likes touching Stanley, especially when he's not awake.Sweat prickles at his brow, he’s always liked Stan like this. Warm and sweet, unable to stop Ford’s questing fingers and wandering mouth — vulnerable.





	Sweet Dreams

Ford is grateful for many things. He’s grateful to be back in his home dimension. He’s grateful to have such wonderful niblings. But most of all, he’s grateful that Stan is a very deep sleeper. In the dark, his brother’s hair is a petal soft grey, spread across the whiteness of his pillow. Stan’s face is slack, uniquely peaceful in the way only the unconscious can be. The lines on his face have not disappeared, but they’ve softened, and in the hazy light that seeps through the drawn curtains, he looks almost youthful. Ford is reminded of being 17, sneaking looks at his sleeping brother from the top bunk, stroking his cock to the quiet sounds of Stan’s breaths, his low moans as he’d dreamed below him, far away but so easy to touch. Little has changed.

Ford settles down next to him, the old bed springs creak beneath his weight. The bed is narrow, meant for a single occupant. Ford likes that, he doesn’t like thinking about other people touching Stanley, holding him. That is his privilege alone.

“Stan.” He says, testing, waiting for a response.

There is none.

Satisfied, he proceeds, trailing his fingers down the length of Stan’s nose, down the yielding flesh of his philtrum, pressing his thumb into the wet dampness of his mouth, feeling each humid exhale. He rubs Stan’s bottom lip, teasing the seam, before pushing the digit inside. Stan’s mouth is beautifully warm and loose, barely resisting his touch. He’s going to fuck his mouth, but that’s later. Right now, he wants to take his time.

He withdraws his hand and peels the blanket away from his twin’s body. Stan is wearing a loose undershirt, and it takes little effort to pull it up. Scars pepper Stan’s body, old knife wounds and pale scratches. There is a particularly jagged and vicious line right across his side, right below his ribcage and Ford bends down and kisses it. His brother has always been bad at taking care of himself. He feels Stan’s breath hitch just as he’s about to lick the length of raised skin, and Ford pauses, heart pounding and unmoving, but his brother doesn’t wake up.

There is a bruise, at the center of his chest. A bloom of deep purple that dims into sickly green near the edges, it is a remnant from his brother’s admittedly impressive rescue of Mabel and Dipper on Election Day. He sucks another smaller bruise below it, a little to the left and right over his heart.

Stan’s cock twitches at that, a bulge forming under the thin material of his boxers. Stan has always had a sensitive chest. He sucks one of Stan’s nipples into his mouth, pressing his teeth around the areola light enough that it won’t leave a mark his brother will notice.

Sweat prickles at his brow, he’s always liked Stan like this. Warm and sweet, unable to stop Ford’s questing fingers and wandering mouth, vulnerable. Stan’s abrasive exterior has melted away, leaving a supine body on an old mattress, open and willing for anything he desires.

Ford undoes his belt and kicks off his boots, not bothering to be quiet. Stan won’t wake up. His cock is hard in his pants and he straddles Stan’s shoulders, knees on either side of his face, careful to put none of his weight on Stan’s fragile neck. He slowly pulls his erection out, and hisses when he feels Stan’s heated breath on the tip. He eases his brother’s jaw open and gently presses his cock inside, pushing the flared head past his lips and oh god—

Stan has closed his mouth and he’s sucking on Ford, like a child sucks on a teat. There’s no teeth, just the sweet pressure of his brother’s gums and palate around him. He jerks his hips forward involuntarily and Stan just takes him deeper, throat opening to the intrusion like he’s used to being fucked while barely conscious. His brother’s always been such a slut, spreading his legs for anyone. He’s lucky to have Ford to rein him in, give him what he really needs. But Ford doesn’t want to give Stan the satisfaction of doing this while they’re both awake, he’s still angry. Maybe that’s why each jerk of his hips is a little more violent than necessary, meant to choke and punish.

Streaks of saliva cover the lower half of Stan’s face, glistening in the darkness between Ford’s legs. He’s starting to frown, face red because he can’t draw in enough air but he keeps sucking Ford, even as his brother moves back, cheeks hollowing. Ford withdraws from Stan’s mouth with a lewd pop that is somehow more arousing than the slick heat of his brother’s throat. His brother’s lips are still loose and red, the dark cavern of his mouth open and inviting.

His dick is wet with Stan’s spit and he presses the head against Stan’s tongue. He begins stroking himself, watching pre-come bead at his slit before dissolving into his brother’s mouth. Stan doesn’t seem to mind the taste.

He jerks himself harder, his abdomen tensing, admiring the looseness of Stan’s mouth, the heat and the dripping wetness of it. His brother makes a soft, approving noise and Ford is coming, it gets all over Stan’s lips and face. Whiteness pools on his brother’s tongue and he swallows around Ford’s softening dick, making him shiver with over sensitivity and recalcitrant lust.

Ford moves back, tucking himself into his pants. He looks back and in the half-light of the bedroom he can see that Stan is still hard, cock leaking against his belly, just from the sensation of a person’s cock shoved down his throat. Christ, Stanley really must’ve missed him.

He moves down the bed and begins stroking Stan’s cock, using his brother’s pre-come to smooth his way. He hasn’t felt his brother’s cock in a long time and he feels nostalgic for a moment, remembering the way Stan used to curl away from him, even in sleep, when Ford tried to touch him like this. Remembers how he’d wake up halfway through but keep his eyes closed and let Ford do what he wanted. He likes this game as much Ford does.

He mouths at the crease of Stan’s thigh, and it is only then that his brother begins to shift, legs bending and pressing into the mattress as he tries to rut into Ford’s fist.

“Ford…” His brother’s voice is raw and raspy, throat-fucked and close to coming, but most of all it is deliciously confused.

“Shh. Stan, go back to sleep.” Ford runs a comforting hand down Stan’s flank and his bleary-eyed brother relaxes at his touch. “It’s just a dream.” He whispers and Stan accepts his words, closing his eyes and lying back, either unwilling or unable to comprehend what is happening.

His brother’s cock twitches and his semen covers Ford’s hands just as his breathing evens out in sleep. Ford licks his hand clean, pulls up Stan’s boxers, and tucks the blanket around him. He pauses, watching the flush leave Stan’s face before placing a soft kiss on his brow.

“Goodnight, Lee.” He says and then turns and leaves. He will be back soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of a nice little anon request!
> 
> hmu at: https://wubblez-bubblez.tumblr.com/


End file.
